


Writing In Pen

by remuslives23



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Miracle Day, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 14:43:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3138077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remuslives23/pseuds/remuslives23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't always recognise your past when it catches up with you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Writing In Pen

**Author's Note:**

> Holy cow! I wrote Miracle Day fic! Which is a miracle in itself since I haven't actually watched the show since the third episode. But there was a part of Episode 8 that I was happy to see and, since my sadistic bitch of a muse doesn't bite often these days, I'm too scared to say no when it does.  
> Contains: Angst. Possibly too many commas as this is unbeta'd.  
> Episode References: MD08.

Shaken by the explosion, Jack found himself beside Angelo's bed. He saw a stool nearby and dragged it across to sit next to his former lover. "More bloodshed," he said, his heart still pounding from the shock of seeing the car in flames. More lives lost, and for what? He stared unseeingly down at the still figure. "My life hasn't changed."

His gaze focused and he took in the lined face that was almost unrecognisable as the man he'd fallen so quickly in love with all those years ago. "I can't believe you were watching me,' he said, hearing incredulity in his voice. "Maybe you said hello. Some old man asking me directions and I just..." He shrugged, a frown creasing his brow, "looked right through you."

Jack's heart ached at the thought and he slid his hand over the wrinkled hand lying on the bed sheets. Angelo had hurt him, had broken his heart, and it had healed with a new hard shell that was almost impenetrable. So many had tried to get past the walls cemented with Angelo's betrayal, but only one had managed it.

He wasn't sure how he would have reacted if he had seen Angelo in the street. And how had it felt for Angelo? Seeing him with other lovers? Seeing him with...

"Did you see him?" Jack asked eagerly, wishing Angelo would wake, wishing he could talk to him about the only other person who'd managed to betray him and still lay claim to his heart. "Did you see Ianto?"

There was, of course, no answer, and Jack shook his head, bemused that he'd expected anything else. "You'd have liked him," he said then he remembered a rough, possessive kiss after Angelo caught Jack checking out a waiter's arse. "Or maybe not. You'd have been jealous."

So would have Ianto, Jack thought sadly. All he would have seen in Angelo was himself – growing older every day while Jack's life went on without him. Jack laughed at the absurdity of the thought that he would ever voluntarily leave Ianto again, his chuckle turning into muted sobs as he hung his head, ashamed of how many of Ianto's fears he'd failed to soothe because he was too frightened of being hurt again. Too afraid Ianto would turn on him like Angelo had.

After a few moments, he exhaled a heavy breath and lifted his head. "Gotta go, work to do." He stood and leaned over the wizened body, so still and pale on the bed. No matter how much Angelo had hurt him, Jack had loved him once, had promised to protect him. "I'll take care of you," Jack whispered. "I promise."

He leaned over and removed the oxygen mask, looking down at Angelo and remembering the vibrant man he used to be. "See you later, old man,' he said shakily, pressing a final light kiss to dry lips before pulling away.

 

_Nearly three years earlier_

"Jack, we're going to be late!"

Jack rolled his eyes – he really had been spending a lot of time with Ianto – but hastened to Ianto's side. "They'll just think we've been shagging," he said, nudging Ianto's shoulder playfully and catching his pinky with his own.

Ianto's face turned a pretty pink but he didn't pull away as Jack swung their arms. "Exactly," Ianto grumbled, straightening his tie in what Jack recognised as a nervous gesture. "I'd rather not get the sly remarks and pointed looks. Especially since I don't have the satisfaction of actually having gotten laid to take the edge off."

Jack laughed and stepped in front of Ianto, bringing him to an abrupt halt. "I'd be happy to fix that," Jack teased, taking Ianto's tie between his thumb and forefinger and letting the silky fabric slide through his grip.

Ianto snorted and slapped Jack's hand away. "You're not getting out of team drinks that easily, Captain."

There was a loud clatter from behind Jack and he turned to see oranges and apples rolling in all directions. An elderly man was crouched beside a spilled bag of groceries, his shaking hand reaching for a tin of tuna.

Jack glanced at Ianto who was already bending to stop an escaping orange in its tracks. Jack scooped up a box of washing powder that had landed near his feet and knelt down beside the man. "Let me help," he said gently, checking the canvas bag for tears before putting the washing powder inside.

The other man looked up at the sound of his voice, staring at Jack with such intensity that Jack became uncomfortable. "Are you alright?" he asked, oddly discomforted by the man's attention. His brown eyes were younger than his body, sparking with alertness and intelligence. Something darker stirred in their depths then, with a blink, it was gone, and the man looked away. Ianto appeared at Jack's side, smiling at the man before carefully transferring the fruit from his arms to the bag.

"Thank you," the man said, his voice heavily accented. He hastily shoved two cans and a tube of toothpaste into the bag then slowly got to his feet. He looked at Ianto, that darkness flashing in his eyes once again before a tight smile twisted his lips. "Thank you for your assistance."

One last, lingering look at Jack, then he turned away, stepping into a nearby news agency.

Ianto raised his eyebrow. "That was... odd."

Jack hummed an agreement, his gaze on the door where the old man had disappeared. He shook his head, shaking off the strange feeling of familiarity, then turned back to Ianto. "Changed your mind about that shag?" he asked with a leer, and Ianto laughed.

"Later, sir," he said as they set off towards the pub on the corner.

Jack's skin tingled as they reached the pub, as if someone was watching him but, when he paused in the doorway and glanced down the street before following Ianto inside, there was no one there.

fin.


End file.
